Keeping
by Mi
Summary: Two months after Voldemort's death: Harry and Snape have to confront each other, themselves and a boggart. SSRL implied. Redemption intended. One-shot.


****

Monstrous Author Notes

About the story:

The setting for this story is kind of depressive. And I've never wanted to let anyone die just for the sake of plot-triggering. Call it an overkill of post-war stories, or after-OotP depression, or ... it popped up in my head and I had to get it out of my system. 

For those of you who've read my Snape/Lupin stories so far: This is NOT how my series will end. It is one possibility out of many. I still believe in happy endings. :-)

Eagletown and Flahery, by the way, are introduced in "Howling Lesson".

So, confused now? Just you wait...

Thanks and credits:

I think some thanks are in order. Namely to all the people who encouraged me with their reviews on ff.net - especially the frequent reviewers: arnj, Athena Keating-Thomas, Chess, Crookykanks, Desideratus Fatum, MK in La La Land, Moustachegirl, Padfoot-Black2, RockyVladimir, samvimes, Synammon, Trinity Day, Zetta, ... and everyone I forgot. Thank you so much! 

Yap (Always trust your beta-reader!) did a 15000-words beta-marathon! Three rounds of 5000 - that's GOLD!!

Credits this time not only go to JKRowling (who still owns every tiny bit of the Potterverse), but also to samvimes from whom I borrowed Lupin's reaction to James' and Lily's deaths (See his mini-series "Alterations", "Ask no Pity" and "All I Remember", three of the most beautifully depressive ficlets I've read so far). And to Stefan for sharing his _'Crocodile Man'_ with me - Thanks. For everything.

Mi

**Keeping**

for Stefan

Harry hadn't talked to anyone from Hogwarts since the funerals, not even to Hermione or Ron. He had planned to keep it that way but things never turned out the way he wanted them to be, did they? Of course he'd answered all the letters very politely - and there had been lots of them - but he'd never encouraged his friends, or admirers, or whoever felt inclined to commiserate or congratulate him, to write back to him. But then there had been _this_ letter and despite himself he was here now. Harry didn't know why he'd come, but maybe it was because Lupin had once told him how he kind of ... stopped ... after Lily, James and Peter had died and Sirius had been sent to Azkaban. How Lupin had thought that his only reason to go on was that he felt as though he owed it to some people. And Harry had been sure that Lupin was the only one who really understood the meaning of loss. And now ...

He rang the bell and waited. He wasn't nervous or anything just - tense. He hadn't thought of what to say, but then again, Snape wouldn't bother. They still despised each other so at least that hadn't changed. 

He rang again and when nothing happened he tried the door. It was open. He hesitated shortly but decided that he wouldn't leave, now that he'd made up his mind. 

It was cool inside and the faint scent of freshly cut grass and hot chocolate hung in the air. Light was coming out of a room on the far end of the corridor.

The room was in a kind of orderly mess. All the shelves were empty and things of all kinds were spread over the floor, chairs and tables - sorted into meticulous piles. Some of them were quite big, others small, but all were labelled with names. They appeared to be alphabetically ordered, if you looked at them long enough. So it wouldn't be hard to find the things Lupin had left him. He scanned the name tags and wondered if Lupin had really considered all those people in his last will. Dumbledore had only mentioned the Weasleys, Harry and Snape in his letter.

It took him almost twenty minutes to realise that his name wasn't among the others, and that he was starting to feel annoyed by the waste of time. And he realised another thing - he didn't want to be here.

"What are you doing, boy?" Snape stood in the doorway. He had been holding a bundle of books which he now handed over to an older but still very blond and very handsome man Harry didn't know. 

"I came for my things," Harry replied more sharply than he had intended to. He wasn't here to fight, but the time where Snape could snap at him all he wanted was definitely over.

"_Your_ things, Potter, as you have so tactfully indicated them, aren't packed yet. But if you had cared to inform me of your inspection before your arrival at," he checked his watch pointedly, "ten past midnight, I would have positioned them in plain sight, so you wouldn't have to sniff around. But it would have surprised me anyway if you'd just considered _asking_ me for them. Well, that was never an option for you, was it?"

Harry opened his mouth to retort but the blond man was faster, obviously very interested in defusing the situation.

"Severus, why don't you introduce us?" he said quickly with a smile to Harry, who didn't return it. He wasn't in the mood for pleasantries.

"I'm Harry Potter. I don't think I need to be introduced."

Snape narrowed his eyes at him but didn't get as far as the usual sneer. 

"Alright," the other man tried again, looking more anxious now. "I'm glad to meet you, Harry. I'm Tobias Eagletown. I'm one of Remus' best friends."

Harry stared at him, trying to remember the name but he couldn't place it. And then, without really knowing why he suddenly felt the urge to do this, he jerked his head to Snape again. "Yeah, sure. And now he's _your_ friend? Didn't take you long to get over it."

Eagletown flushed red and dropped all his books while Snape stood stone-faced without moving an inch. "Whoa, er ... that's not, we're not -" Eagletown stuttered, but Snape cut him with a dead voice.

"To give you credit for that, Potter: I couldn't have introduced you in a more appropriate manner. You sure make friends very easily these days, do you."

"Well, I'm still famous."

In the silence that followed, Harry waited for Snape to explode. But - he didn't. Instead he gave Harry one of his nasty smirks. 

"Would be too easy, Potter, wouldn't it? Why don't you wait in the kitchen until Mr. Eagletown and I are finished here? It's the next room on the left side."

Harry wanted to say that he knew where the kitchen was - when he remembered that he'd never been in Lupin's house before. He'd received invitations from him to spend time here during the summers after Sirius had died, but somehow Harry had never managed to follow them. 

He shrugged and took up one of Eagletown's books. _'A World in the Dark - by Lucy Moone'_, he read on the cover. Under the title was a very beautiful picture of a dark, furry wolf, below which Harry found a handwritten note. _'With all my love to Remus, from Lucy.'_

"My wife wrote the book. You can keep it if you like. It's a novel."

"About werewolves?"

"Sort of. You know, it's one of them metaphorical stories about life and all. I think you might like it. It's not as depressing as the title might suggest."

"I don't know." He wanted to give the book to Eagletown but he shoved it back into Harry's hands.

"No, please. Keep it. Take a look at it while you're waiting and if you don't like it, no harm done. Just give it back to Severus."

"Okay ... thanks."

"You're welcome."

Harry caught Snape's look. It was a most indifferent expression and Harry frowned inwardly about the man's lack of emotions ... or his amount of forced self-control.

"I take it you find the kitchen without my help, Potter. And don't stroll around. You're not on sight-seeing."

"I take it there wouldn't be much to see anyway. Looks like you're doing an effective job with cleaning up the -"

Snape made a rash move in his direction, his eyes blazing with anger for a split second. Harry tried not to jump but Snape just moved over so Harry could pass through the door. "And don't wake the house elf," he hissed. "I'm not paying her overtime."

"Bye, Harry." Eagletown offered him his hand and Harry shook it automatically. "You can come and visit us if you like. See, Remus spoke very often and very fond of you. You are welcome any time."

"Er, thanks again," Harry was slightly taken aback by Eagletown's niceness. But he sounded honest and Harry appreciated that. "I'll think about it. Bye." 

The kitchen was only a few steps away. He stopped on the doorstep. 

__

"Speaking about invitations," Harry heard Eagletown's voice. _"When are you planning to take up one of ours and pay us a visit at last? Lucy recently started double-checking the mail in case she might have missed your letter."_

"How very dramatic."

"Well, she's an artist. They all are."

"I'm fine."

"That wasn't my question. So?"

"I don't know. I'm busy."

"I see that." There was a pause._ "You're sure about the house?"_

"Yes."

"Flahery told me you didn't take the new position Dumbledore offered -"

"Is this going to be a therapy session? Because I'm not one of your clients, Tobias."

"Oh thank God for that, really."

"Give me that parchment, will you?" 

"Here. What about the job, now?"

"I'm Potions Master. That'll do."

"But didn't you at least consider-"

"Yes. NO. I ... can't do it. I'm not even sure if I can stay at Hogwarts."

There was a long moment of silence and Harry thought that this should really be the moment to walk out on this conversation.

__

"It's not your fault. You know that, don't you?"

"Are you sure you chose the right career? Because I always thought that psychologists don't give away direct advices or commentary. Isn't that why your profession isn't exactly respected in the wizarding world?"

"Severus, I mean it."

"But it is. I could have ..."

"You could have what? You can't survive a Death Curse -"

"Only if someone dies for you. That's why I'm still alive and he is not. You know what? I feel better already, now that we've talked it through."

Harry gasped. He hadn't known that. Not that Lupin had died like -

__

"Look," Snape's voice came again, with a forced calm._ "I'll drop by next week."_

"You could bring Harry along."

"Or I couldn't."

"He's so angry. Just like ... well, I think I'm off now."

Harry slipped into the room and closed the door silently. He quickly sat behind the coffee table and started reading his book - although he was sure that he wouldn't remember one word of it afterwards.

***

He woke with a start - like he was used to do since his sixth year at Hogwarts. And each time he was completely unaware of where he was or what had woken him up. This time he remembered a little girl, Hanna. She'd been running away, trying to escape from ... he jumped up. No! That didn't happen. Not like this. It was in the book. The book that Eagletown had given him. 

Harry flopped back on his chair, and after a minute of catching his breath he grinned. He had just fallen asleep in _Snape's_ kitchen. Now that would be something to remember. He checked his watch - he'd been off for half an hour. And then he heard the noise. Rattling and splintering sounds were coming from somewhere on the first floor. So that was what had woken him up. 

The sounds came again, much louder than before. Like wood was being torn apart - or at least like someone was trying to. Harry wondered if Lupin had left him a cupboard and Snape thought it handy to get it into transportable pieces for him. Or perhaps ... Snape was in trouble.

"Right, because someone would attack him now. Here. And on the only night when I am -"

He took out his wand, left the kitchen and searched for the stairs. The banging got louder when he reached the upper floor, where light was coming out from under the closed doors. Harry listened. He chose the second door on the right and pushed it open. It hit the wall with a splitting sound and the other noises stopped - and Snape's snarling voice could be heard easily.

"I hope you have an explanation for this, boy. Or better - I hope you haven't so I can finally _ask_ you to leave." He emphasised each of the last words in an unnerving tone. "And get that wand out of my face."

Harry lowered it. "I heard some noise and thought ..."

"Finish your sentences, Potter."

"I thought there might be trouble."

Snape scowled and the noise came back too. Harry scanned the room and found the source of it quickly. It really _was_ a cupboard - or something in it. 

"It's a boggart!"

"Five points for stating the obvious, Potter. Now sit, I'll be ready in a minute."

Snape went over to his desk, ignoring the racket, and ruffled quickly through some pictures. Harry sat down on the other side of the table, trying to ignore the feeling of déjà vu.

"Why don't you get rid of it?" 

Snape didn't look up. "What are you doing here anyway, Potter, apart from forcing the usual amount of attention out of everyone?"

"Did Professor Lupin really leave all his things to all those people whose names are on the labels?" Harry changed the subject again, but Snape still didn't look up from what he was doing. 

"Do we have to talk, Potter?"

This was a good question and Harry wished he knew why the answer was 'yes'. Maybe it was the rampaging boggart that got on his nerves, or the atmosphere of all the empty shelves which made it all too obvious that Lupin was gone, or he just wanted - despite himself - to talk to someone. But he hated talking to Snape ... blast! This was all crazy anyway. Still ...

"Did he?" Harry asked again.

"If you must know: No, he didn't. I'm giving things to his friends or acquaintances which I think they would like to have. But don't you worry - I didn't choose the things you'll get."

"But ..."

Snape jerked his head up. "_What?_"

"You aren't giving away everything, are you?"

Snape didn't answer but still glared.

"I mean, you can't just ... I'm sure he'd wanted you to keep some things."

"You are sure. That's interesting, I don't recall you've visited or cared much to talk to him when he was alive. So tell me, Potter, how do you know what he would want now that he's dead?"

"Maybe I don't, but ..."

"You are using an awful lot of 'buts' tonight. Be careful not to run out of them before you find the point in all your useless and misplaced -"

"I can't believe he got involved with you!" Harry blurted out, jumping from his seat.

"Involved?" Snape, too, shot up, sending most of the pictures on the desk fluttering to the ground. "We weren't _involved_, boy! We were -" He stopped and frowned deeply. He sank back on his chair, staring at his hands that were still clutching the desk.

Harry also dropped his gaze but kept standing stubbornly in the middle of the room. He didn't know if he had the right to be angry with Lupin, but he was. Even if it was childish and unjust. And although he knew that it wasn't at all his business with whom Lupin had been together - Harry felt betrayed. For not knowing about it until two months ago and because Lupin had loved a man Harry hated - and who hated him in return.

The moment stretched out. Only the boggart didn't seem to care about melodramatic pauses. Or it actually did and had decided to play along by doubling up the volume.

Finally Snape broke the _silence_. He muttered a sorting spell at the pictures and then pointed over to a wooden chest. "Your things are in there. Take that box and the pictures, I think that's all. If there's anything I forgot, I'll send it to you."

Harry took the photographs without looking at them, putting the bundle into his robes. His eyes wandered over to the shaking cupboard and he noticed that he still had his wand in his hand. And before Harry knew what had gotten into him, he turned to Snape.

"If you won't do it - I'll get rid of the boggart. _I'm_ not afraid." 

Snape gaped, a most surprised expression on his face. Without waiting for a reply, Harry walked over to the cupboard and opened it, holding up his wand. 

"RIDDIKULUS!" he shouted at - nothing? There was nothing. Harry blinked and stared into the dark cupboard. He concentrated hard, and suddenly, although there was nothing there, his heart began to beat so fast it hurt. He tried to breathe normally but he couldn't. He couldn't breathe at all. It felt like something got stuck in his throat and was working its way through his body. He dropped his wand and pressed his hands against his chest. It was inside of him. The boggart was inside him! But that wasn't possible. Boggarts couldn't ... they couldn't hurt people like that. The feeling intensified and Harry thought his chest would explode ... when suddenly it all rushed back to normal. Air was filling his lungs and the pain stopped - except for in his right arm where Snape was holding him in a tight grip, still having that perplexed look on his face. 

Harry couldn't say how much time had passed. The details of what had happened already dissolved into some vague dreamy feeling, when he realised that Snape must be standing between him and the boggart - because Snape had his eyes fixed at something on the floor. And something in his eyes brought back a memory. Harry remembered Mrs Weasley, trying to fight a boggart that had shown her the bodies of everyone she loved and had feared to lose. But your greatest fear couldn't be something that had already happened, could it? That just wasn't logical. But then again - fear never was. 

He followed Snape's look, though he was already sure about what he would see. Still it came as a shock. He tried to recall what it felt like to see Ron's body in Mrs Weasley's vision - but it was different now. Because seeing Lupin wasn't only a vision, it was a memory. Because Harry now had too many memories like that of his own. 

Snape loosened the grip on Harry's arm but didn't release him. He also didn't make any attempt to banish the boggart. He instead continued to look at Lupin. Harry didn't know what to do ... so he did nothing. He kept his eyes on Snape who seemed strangely calm. 

At least five minutes passed in which they just stood like that. Then Snape closed his eyes, bringing up his wand. Harry turned his head but the body was gone. Instead Snape was pointing his wand directly at a vision of himself. He opened his eyes before he finally did the spell. 

"RIDDIKULUS!" His voice rang loudly after the silence, and the word still echoed through the small room after the boggart had burst into a thousand pieces of grey smoke. 

Snape slowly turned to Harry, stuffing away his wand with a slightly shaking hand. "What in God's name did you think you were doing?" he said hoarsely.

Harry froze. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about that stunt you just performed, risking your bloody life. Tell me, Potter. Since when has the Boy-Who-Lived become the Boy-Without-Fear?"

"I don't know what -"

"Do you remember the form your boggart chose?"

"No ... yes." He remembered the feeling. "What was that inside my chest?"

"I think that should be pretty obvious." Snape sounded sharper with each word and Harry's heart began to beat faster again. 

"I don't know what you are talking about. There was something inside my body, it ... stunned me."

"Stunned you? Almost killed you more likely." 

"That doesn't make any sense! No boggart can do that!"

"You really haven't learned a thing, Potter!"

"DON'T TALK TO ME LIKE THAT!" Snape was somehow still holding Harry's arm and Harry pushed him away with his free hand. "Tell me what you mean! _What happened to me_?"

Snape was panting, holding his shoulder where Harry had hit him. "What I mean is that your boggart was able to become a solid manifestation of fear itself. Not the usual symbolic representation - but a physical form of the fear inside of -" 

"But I wasn't afraid!"

"Think again, Potter. A boggart who transforms like this is a very rare thing and only comes with extreme denial. Or a complete delusion about your own state of mind."

"NO! I'm not feeling like this! I'm not ... mental or anything! Look at your own boggarts then. _That's_ crazy!" Harry's voice cracked. He knew he wouldn't be able to stop it. He knew he was going to cry any moment now. That thing he'd felt ... had tried to eat him from inside, and he ... would have let it. "I am NOT scared. Not anymore. Not like ... it's just ... I can't sleep or eat or talk to any- " He felt the tears running down his face and held his hands over it. He wished Hermione was there, and started crying even more. 

Harry knew that Snape must have kept talking to him, only he didn't hear the words. He concentrated on the tone in his voice, it kind of helped. Harry also knew that he said some things in return and then he heard Snape talking to someone else - _'Mr Potter stays for the night. Just bring new sheets and, if we still have some, chocolate.'_ Suddenly all he wanted to do was sleep.

***

When he woke up he wasn't alone. His heart made a painful jump in his chest and Harry groped around for his glasses.

"Hermione ..." She really was here. And without any explanation she flung her arms around his neck. Harry pressed his face into her hair and didn't let go of her for the next couple of minutes.

"I missed you so much," she said when they finally stopped clinging to each other.

"Me too."

"So why didn't you call or - ? What did you do all those weeks? We were all worried stiff. Molly and the twins ... and Neville's grandmother asked for you frequently."

"What about Ron?"

Hermione made a face. "_That's_ - a longer story. Involving goblins, Hagrid and something with sixteen legs."

"Hagrid? Are they all right?"

"Oh, yes. They had a wonderful time. I personally think that Ron's gone nuts and that this whole mystical dragon-slaying is highly overrated."

Harry smiled at the mental picture.

"Draco came over once," she said in a hushed voice, then changed the subject quickly. "Why did you stay with the Dursleys all this time? I mean, if you wanted to be alone you could have travelled or ... I don't know, something else."

He thought about it. "They didn't ask questions."

"Oh ... I'm sorry."

"No! Don't be. I mean ... ask me something else."

Hermione looked thoughtful but Harry knew that he meant it. "Come on. What do you want to know?"

"Okay," she said firmly. "I want to know about the boggart."

Harry sat up. "What did Snape tell you?"

"Well, not very much. But he resisted his natural instincts to discredit you. It was so scary. My mother thought he would collapse on our doorstep. He looked awful."

"Hm."

"So, what happened?"

Harry told her everything that had happened after he'd opened the cupboard. At least everything he could remember. He tried to recall what Snape had said to him and felt relieved that Hermione seemed to know what he was talking about.

"I think it started after Sirius died," Harry tried to explain - perhaps more to himself than to her, "that I felt like I wasn't afraid anymore. Not of losing another friend, or losing myself by killing Voldemort. Cause that's what I would have to do. It was a prophecy after all, so I wouldn't have to feel sorry or anything for it." 

"And you couldn't have done it if you had." 

"But ... I also stopped feeling anything other than angry or -"

"That's not true, Harry. You've felt more than anyone I've ever known. You just couldn't admit it to yourself. But it's totally alright to be afraid."

"I know that."

"No, you don't. That's why it happened." She took one of his hands into hers and quickly stroked through his hair with the other. "Come on, get dressed. You've spent enough time with sleeping."

"Hah. I've only had two hours sleep last night."

"Make that two days, quidditch-brain."

Harry sat up. "What?"

"You slept for two days, Harry. Not two hours."

He couldn't believe it. "But I still feel tired," he said sheepishly. 

Hermione laughed. "Of course you do. The bags under your eyes say you need at least two weeks of sleep."

He scrambled out of the bed. When he came back from the bathroom, he started to pack his things. 

"Did Snape give you anything?" Harry asked. He felt more and more awake, now that he knew he'd slept more than a couple of hours for a change. 

"What do you mean?"

"He's giving away all of Lupin's stuff. Didn't you see the empty cupboards?"

"He gave me Lupin's old school bag. Well, he more like pushed it into my hands while he growled something about _not_ wishing me luck with my studies." She shrugged. "But the shelves aren't empty any more. Perhaps he actually kept a few things. And he moved a lot of his own stuff in yesterday. Well, I _think_ it's his. Books, bottles, cauldrons and all. _And_ he brought that terrible owl of his. _Edgar._" She rolled her eyes. "He tried to eat my ear this morning. You ready?"

Harry looked around. "Yes. Let's go. Er ... where _are_ we going?"

***

When they reached the stairs, Harry could hear a familiar, commanding voice. 

__

"That's quite a drag you've made with that list. The students must have bought their books already, considering that school starts in two days. How are we to explain the extra costs?" 

"You're the deputy Headmistress, so it's your job. Don't complain. Besides, you don't actually believe that even one student would ever learn anything out of a book called 'How to get rid of evil in 101 steps'?"

"So what're your_ recommended readings, then? Let's see ... oh, that's very - straight, I dare say. 'Dark Arts. Volume 1 to 7'. Very basic."_

"I take this as a compliment."

"So, you are sure about the house?"

"That's by far the most annoying question ever. Yes, I'm sure. I'll keep it. And why does everyone keep asking me that?"

"Because you keep changing your mind about it?"

"It's not about the house, Minerva. You want to know if I'm alright. And: No, I'm not. But ... that's how it is. So stop -"

"Fine." 

Harry and Hermione were down the stairs and tried to decide wether to interrupt Snape's and McGonagall's conversation or not -

"Come in, Potter," Snape called harshly from inside the kitchen. 

"Hi, Professor McGonagall."

"Harry!" She jumped up from her chair. "Good Lord, Severus! Why didn't you tell me that Harry's here?" 

Snape sneered but gave her half a smile. "_That_ must have slipped my mind completely."

"And - Miss Granger," she added, sounding slightly perplexed.

"They came to ask about the house," Snape added sarcastically. 

"I just came by to fetch some things," Harry explained to McGonagall. "Sorry I can't stay a bit longer but I have to catch up on ... other things as well."

"Of course. I understand that." She gave him a warm smile. "Where are you staying?"

"With Hermione for a start. Can I -" Harry hesitated, not sure if this was such a good idea, "- have a word with Professor Snape?"

McGonagall threw Snape a questioning look but his expression remained completely blank. "Of course you can. I'd love to talk to Miss Granger for a change." And with that she and Hermione left the room.

Harry knew that his next question would most likely lead to another nasty scene, but - he had to ask it.

"What happened after Professor Lupin saved your life?"

Snape went pale.

"I know," Harry hurried to explain. "I'm sorry I listened - really, and I don't know why I'm asking you this, it just feels important. Professor Dumbledore told me that when someone who loves you dies for you, you are protected. I think _that's_ why Voldemort's curse backfired. Not because it had anything to do with the prophecy. Did ... Malfoy try to kill you after Professor Lupin ... did the curse backfire on him like it did on Voldemort? Because then ... "

Snape was white as a ghost by now. Harry still couldn't stop himself. "Can I see your scar?"

Snape slowly got up from his chair. "You will _not_ talk of this to any of your friends. Am I making myself clear, Mister Potter?"

Harry nodded and Snape waved a hand. "Sit." 

Snape hesitated before he rolled up one sleeve of his robe and showed him the inside of his left forearm. The scar was almost too fine to qualify as one. Not like his own. And it wasn't shaped like a lightning-bolt - it had the form of a plain full circle. Harry had only seen Snape's dark mark once, but he was sure that the circle was on exactly the same spot where the skull had been.

Snape covered it up and then opened the door . "I'd like to see you leave now."

"Thanks for -"

"What about the book?"

"Book?" Harry was puzzled.

"Which Mr Eagletown gave you."

"Oh. I'll ... keep it, then."

"Do that, Potter. Will do your brain a lot of good - in case you read it of course. And if you are planning to pay me another visit - which I definitely hope you won't - try and choose a more decent time for it."

"I'm sure it won't come to that," Harry replied. So much for the few constants in his life. Things really never turned out the way he thought they would. 

__

the end


End file.
